


Screens (Not) Blue

by voleuse



Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-09
Updated: 2004-01-09
Packaged: 2017-10-09 04:28:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And they called <em>his</em> movies surreal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Screens (Not) Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for the prelude of the first movie.

It's been about ten years since he's been in front of a camera. He's not sure if he misses it or not, because _this_ is not acting the way he remembers it.

_It'll be fun_, they had assured him. _You get to be _ambiguous_. And evil!_

He's used to small sets, small names, and small budgets. That Fran and Peter have done this, _are_ doing this, boggles him at times. It's a nice change, to be able to enjoy the process without being in charge of it. It's like being caught in a hurricane when you already know how to fly.

He wouldn't direct this trilogy for all the money in the world. He couldn't, really, because his quirks swerve in a different direction. The glory of Tolkien's work aside (he's read the novels more than once), he would have tried to tell Gimli's story, probably. Underappreciated and underfoot, to lethal effect. Or maybe Gandalf, reminiscing through the haze of Longbottom's finest.

Or Isildur, a footnote and the catalyst, mourning his father and ruling a kingdom. Never knowing he wore his doom as a trinket.

He knows how often the suits contact Peter, and he's glad that he doesn't have to take those calls. He's glad he doesn't have to worry about test screenings and statistics and millions of people who know the story better than he does.

He's happy to just sprawl on the ground, armour-heavy and dirt-smeared, pretending a being of tremendous power bows over him.

He trained with his sword for six weeks to make one wild, desperate swing. He hopes the sound of Sauron's fingers, thudding to earth, lives up to what he's imagined.

Knowing Peter, it will.

He feels his wig coming askew, and the lights are broiling him, and they call for another take. And another. And another. Everywhere he looks, a heavy blue smothers him. He's on a battlefield, his father dying beside him, surrounded by tens of thousands of friends and enemies, unnatural all.

Except he's not.

He sees cameras break, stuntmen bleed, and his close friends going near berserk with details.

He knows, in his gut, that this will be one of the greatest movies imaginable.

Not for all the money in the world.


End file.
